In the days before pictorial railway books became all the rage, the photo features that appeared in the monthly railway magazines fuelled the imagination of tens of thousands of schoolboys, who, armed with only the simplest Kodak Brownie 127 camera, became as familiar a feature of the railway landscape as small boys with notebooks and pencils. I began photographing trains in 1958, but with so precious little money to spend on train fares, my trips with a camera had to be made within affordable travelling distance from Leeds, so I spent most weekends visiting Doncaster and York - both within an hours train ride away. Then, on my 14th birthday I bought a 35mm camera on ‘tick’ from a mail-order catalogue. Being in possession of an expensive-looking Halina 35X camera was the defining moment that changed my early teens because with the typical youthful impetuosity, I no longer wanted to be an engine driver, I wanted to be an official railway photographer, and spurred on by a careers teacher at school, began studying the pictures in 'Trains Illustrated' and 'Railway Magazine'.

Every picture tells a story, they say, and this was certainly true of Eric Treacy's photographs. My bedroom wall was covered with evocative images of Duchesses and Lizzies captured in the light and shade of Edge Hill Cutting or slogging over Beattock and Shap. It was almost as if he had glimpsed into my soul and seen all that mattered. But Eric Treacy wasn’t the only member of the old school to have influenced me. Most enthusiasts will recall the classic steam photos by  Derek Cross - a name synonymous with train spotters. His pictures appeared in almost every edition of the 'Trains Illustrated' and 'Railway Magazine' and my only aim in life was to try and copy him. Of course, being driven to emulate your hero is a blessing - as long as you know where you are going - and in many ways I reconcile myself with the thought that I had a chance to record the miasma of steam’s demise in the 1960s before it was too late.

As for visiting Shap? I longed to go there, but the cost of a cheap day return from Leeds to Tebay (via Carnforth) was more than the miserly wages I earned from my morning round each week so it was impossible... unless I could persuade my dad to sub me a couple of quid?...

(Below) A classic shot and a superb location, despite an overcast sky. Vintage memories are recalled in this photo of HG Ivatt’s Co-Co twins Nos 10000/1 powering a rake of carmine and cream coaching stock through the Lune Valley in the early Fifties (note the nose-end connecting doors in the open position between the units). In February 1953, the Ivatt twin Co-Cos were transferred to the SR for evaluation against the SR/Bullied Ico-Co1s at Nine Elms shed. They returned to the LMR in 1954 working Anglo-Scottish trains in mutliple and singly on freight between Camden and Crewe. The Co-Cos spent long sojourns at Derby for attention caused by problems with spares for the EE Co Mk 1 engine then out of production, and this severely prejudiced the attitude toward the pair. At the same time, ample supplies of the new EE Co Type 4 (Class 40) were beginning to appear on the WCML and the pioneer diesels became surplus to requirements. Photo © GEC/Alstom

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not unexpectedly, my dad refused to sub me anything - 'There are certain things in life that are worth waiting for,' he said - and, as it turned out he was right! A few weeks later, I heard about a Cheap-Day Ramblers Excursion from Leeds to Tebay on Sunday, April  18th 1960, which, for this starry-eyed youngster, was a dream come true. When the big day arrived, it didn't matter that the excursion was headed the scruffiest 'Black Five' No 45306, or that the outward journey seemed to take an age - first picking up ramblers at intermediate stations all the way to Skipton, then dropping off at every station to Tebay. At least it gave me a chance to photograph No 45306 at the stops we made at Clapham, Ingleton, Kirby Lonsdale, Sedbergh and Low Gill - five shots in all, plus a sixth I took from the carriage window of a Class 8F No 48283, Black 5 No 45153 and a Class 3F Johnson Midland rebuild No 43585 simmering in the shed yard at Hellifield…six out of 24 exposures - 18 left.

In those days, 35mm film was precious, so I decided to save the rest for Shap - but I never got there. On the final leg of the journey between Low Gill and Tebay, the remote beauty of the Lune Valley looked majestic, so I abandoned any plans for roaming the wide open spaces of Shap - and nothing could have dissuaded me; not even the chance of photographing a hard working steam locomotive doing battle with the four miles of 1 in 75 to the summit. A rare glimpse of sunshine gave me the chance to photographed some of the engines in residence on shed at Tebay - three Fowler Class 4MT 2-6-4s, Nos 42396, 42404, 42424, all having side windows fitted to the cab to protect the crew from the wintry conditions during banking duty to the summit. The rest was made up of 4 Ivatt LMS 2-6-0s Nos 43011, 43018, 43029 and 43035 and a solitary Standard Class 2MT No 78013.

(Above) A section of a favourite cycling map from the early 1960s - an Ordnance Survey Quarter-Inch cloth-bound Map of England, North Central, costing the princely sum of Three Shillings & Ninepence...more than I earned from my morning paper round each week, but worth every penny. It was a constant companion inside the zipped-up breast pocket of my anorak, and I still have it today - the map, not the anorak...the colourful contours of the Lake District mountains, Yorkshire Dales and North Yorkshire Moors simply takes your breath away.

But shed-bashing wasn’t the main item on the agenda; the distant craggy ridges of the Lune Valley looked a more inviting place. I suppose one can wax lyrical on such a beautiful spot: the gurgling notes of the Lune river tumbling through the valley, the steep escapement of the surrounding fells, the wind in the telephone wires, the call of the curlew, and the distant bleating of sheep - yes, the valley was a beautiful place in the days before the six-lane M6 Motorway ruined it, but on that eventful April day the grey ceiling of clouds brewing over the fells was ample warning of what was to come...

(Below) During the transition from steam, the EE Co Type 4s will always be associated with the West Coast route, often struggling with 13 coaches on the drawbar and hammering the locomotive with a load for which it was not designed. With the absence of a smoke effect (an integral part of steam railway photography) the anomaly about photographing diesels is the sense that the subject is standing still, yet one can almost hear 16-cylinders of engines bellowing out as No D382 struggles up the 1 in 75 climb at Greenholme with a Euston-Perth express. Photo © J R Carter

(Below) The BTC's diesel age took off in 1957 when the newly-built EE Co pilot scheme Type 1 diesels - the first to be delivered in the pilot-scheme orders - were being put through their paces on two test runs from the Vulcan Foundry. The first involved hauling a brake van (stabled at the EE Co works specifically for the purpose) to Chester. Any faults were rectified overnight in readiness for the second test (hauling a rake of ex-LMS vehicles) from Edge Hill via Preston to Penrith on the WCML. Although Shap summit - at an altitude of 915ft above sea level - provided a severe haulage task for a 1,000hp locomotive, on no account was banking assistance allowed. Here, newly-built Type 1 No D8003 leans to the curve at Low Gill station with the northbound train in August 1957. In that same year, the Soviet Union launched the world’s first satellite (Sputnik) into orbit - the Space Race had arrived too. Photo © GEC/Alstom

With only a flimsy anorak for protection, I set off south from the village, ignoring the distant rumble of thunder. Then, just before reaching the road bridge near Dillicar troughs the deluge started - more of a cloud burst than anything else - then all the denizens of hell seemed to break loose: hailstones, lightning, howling winds. It whipped up into a frenzy. I sheltered against a dry stone wall and waited half an hour - an hour? - I’d lost all track of time. A couple of trains went by, perhaps three – I didn’t even bother to look. I was soaked to the skin, frozen to the bone...I ached in every muscle, in every sinew. I desperately wanted to go home.   

Then, all at once, it stopped, - as if a tap had been turned off - and just as quickly the sun broke through, and for the first time that day I could enjoy the Lune Valley in all its glory. The silence was a humbling experience; a magical place to spend a lazy afternoon taking photographs of trains at various locations along the line. I’ll never forget the thrill of hearing the four-beat exhaust of a hard working Stanier Pacific from somewhere beyond Low Gill. Then I saw the distinctive tartan headboard above the smokebox door. This was it!...a dream come true - a chance to photograph a 'Duchess' on the 'Royal Scot' express at the very same spot Eric Treacy did all those years ago. I snatched the lens cap off, checked the aperture, shutter and focus. Had I wound on the film? Check again - now steady, steady...a deep breath, aim...fire!  It happens so quickly, there is barely any time to enjoy the moment until it is too late and the Duchess is heading away towards Tebay, followed by the leisurely clickety-clack of carriage wheels over rail joints and the timeless sounds of nature envelopes the valley again. Memories? How long ago it all now seems...